


The Hare and the Phoenix

by CallicoKitten



Series: The Hare and the Phoenix [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemon, Angst, Daemons, F/M, Implied Torture, M/M, eventual slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco first meets Harry he knows he's met someone special, it just takes him a while to work out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome :D There's more on FF.net (I will post it here when I get the time) daemon notes and forms will be added at the end :)

The first time Draco Malfoy meets Harry Potter he knows he's met someone special, even though at the time he doesn't even know his name.

He knows this because Adrasteia, an arctic fox sat at his feet, actually plays with Neala. Well, plays as much as Adrasteia does play, which involves batting at the little squirrel and chasing her around the shop. Usually Addie will stay beside him barely sparing other daemons a glance before huffing and turning away from them. And it's nice, playing that is. The boy's daemon becomes a small brown fox and the two foxes wrestle about mock snarling and laughing. Draco smiles.

But then his mother and her swan daemon, Silvain come to meet them and Adrasteia leaps away from the fox guiltily and scurries back to Draco, flowing up his arm as an ermine.

"What was that all about?" he asks quietly as they trail after Narcissa.

Adrasteia looks at him, "What was what all about?"

"You know that. Addie, you liked that other boy's daemon," Draco teases.

She bristles and changes from an ermine to a dove. "No, I didn't Draco," she says huffily. "I was just bored." And with that she leaves his shoulder to flutter above his head and Draco sniggers.

When they realise that the scrawny boy they met was Harry Potter Adrasteia grins, "Bet you wish you were as friendly as I was."

"Oh, do shut up," he hisses to her. She snaps at him playfully, she's an arctic fox again. She likes that form and Draco likes it to, he half hopes she'll settle as something bigger though.

She turns in to a snowy owl when they spot Harry among the new students and they approach him flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and their bulldog daemons. When they find out he's befriended the youngest Weasley boy they both scoff, especially when they see that the boy's daemon is a scruffy beagle.

"They're always dogs," Adrasteia says. "So dull."

Draco hums in agreement and they offer Harry their friendship.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry says, refusing Draco's hand and Neala hisses as a mangy tabby beside the Weasley's beagle.

Adrasteia drops to the floor and becomes an arctic wolf and everyone around them gasps. Daemons aren't meant to become wolves, it shows wildness, savageness; it shows something is horribly wrong. But it feels right and Draco smiles.

Ron takes an involuntary step back, his daemon shifting in to a crow that took off with a startled caw but Harry looks impassively at the wolf and Neala bristles but doesn't change form. Adrasteia growls and they probably would have fought but McGonagall arrives and Adrasteia shrinks quickly in to her fox shape and leaps on to Draco's shoulder.

"I hate them," she spits later on that night when they're sprawled across their bed in Slytherin. She's a wolf again and the curtains are drawn so no one can see.

Draco runs a hand through her snowy fur, "It'll be okay, Addie." He soothes. He's worried about how upset his daemon really is so he changes the subject.

"Do you think you'll settle like this?" he asks quietly. He doesn't care if the most prolific person in the wizarding world with a wolf daemon was Grindlewald. He loves her like this, beautiful and powerful. Father would like it to, mother not so much. She'd be too worried about the implications.

She flicked her ears and shook her head, "No, sorry Draco."

Draco nods and tries not to look too disappointed and Adrasteia takes the form of an arctic wolf more and more after that.

When Draco starts his fifth year and Adrasteia still hasn't settled he starts to worry. Everyone else in his year is settled already. Pansy's Shax settled in third year as an irritating black and tan pug that liked to press himself against Adrasteia, so had Blaise's Harmonia as a beautiful emerald serpent. Crabbe and Goyles' daemons had both settled in their third year as a bulldog and boxer respectfully.

Everyone's daemons had settled. they think about pretending Adrasteia is settled, because who would know? The only thing is they can't decide what to be and nothing feels right.

"We're not a wolf," she murmurs.

He runs a hand through her beautiful striped fur, "We're not a tiger either." He mumbles back, he wishes they were though.

"What are we?" she asks pensively.

"A mouse," Draco whispers softly. "A snake, a ferret. Something slimy and cowardly."

Adrasteia lifts her head and snaps at him. "No, Draco." She growls.

His parents were getting worried; they had sent him to three specialists during the summer break, but Draco's pretty sure that was mostly to get him away from the house. He knows Harry's telling the truth about Voldermort being back.

He knows it in the way Silvain refuses to touch or even look at his father's snow leopard daemon, Kali. He knows it by the way Kali's fur has faded, how her eyes have gone dull, how she trails after Lucius with her tail held low and her ears down.

They hear them argue one night when they're crouched in a darkened corridor.

"You can't work for him again!" his mother cries and Adrasteia presses herself closer to him as a white tiger. They've never heard their mother raise her voice before.

"I don't have any other choice, Narcissa," his father replies quietly and Kali growls low and warning.

"We could leave," she whispers. "We could just take Draco and go."

Adrasteia nuzzles him, "Draco, we should leave." She whispers. When he doesn't move she tugs at him and eventually he follows her through the manor to his room, one hand fisted in her thick fur.

They don't talk about it until they're back at Hogwarts.

They're on the astronomy tower. Draco loves it up here; it's quiet, secluded and beautiful. Adrasteia is soaring across the grounds as an osprey, he can feel her tugging at their bond but it's dulled by the overwhelming sense of freedom he can feel through her.

She's been a bird more and more often lately.

"Do you think you'll be a bird when you settle?" he asks, stroking her soft feathers absently when she landed beside him.

She clacks her beak, "I'd like that, I think. Then we wouldn't have to give up Quidditch at least."

He nods. If your daemon settled as something too large to sit on your broom with you or unable to fly your Quidditch days were pretty much over, unless you went through the arduous and painful process of stretching the bond between you. Draco shivers at the thought and Adrasteia presses herself closer to him.

"Addie," Draco asks softly. "What should we do?"

What should we do about Father? What should we do about Voldermort? What should we do about settling? What should we do?

Adrasteia changes in to an arctic fox and licks his cheek. "I don't know, Draco."

She settles on the evening after the first winter snow.

Draco's always loved the snow. He loves the way it covers the world like a blanket, cleansing and purifying. He loves the silence that accompanies it and the way it crunches gently under his boots. But mostly he loves the way Adrasteia loses all her self control and bounds through it with unbridled glee like a hyperactive child.

They're lying on their backs, Adrasteia as an ermine resting on his chest, watching the snow fall. Narcissa and Silvain used to scream themselves horse about it but Draco never really felt the cold. It doesn't happen in some blaze of glory like some people's settling does, it's not dramatic, it just happens.

Draco runs his hands through her thick fur, "I think I'll miss it," he says quietly.

"Miss what?" she asks sleepily.

"I'll miss you being able to change," he says sitting up. She slides off his chest gracefully and turns in to a white cat. He leans forwards and shivers. "If you could be anything, Addie, what you be?"

She cocks her head to the side and flicks her tail, "Something to keep you warm." She says with a smirk.

He laughs and he expects her to shift in to her wolf form or maybe a tiger or lion but she doesn't. She changes in to a bird, a huge, black bird that seems to radiate heat. He gasps and reaches out hesitantly to stroke her feathers; she's never taken this form before. Closer up he sees her feathers aren't black they're made up of a multitude of sifting colours, like petrol on water.

She shudders when he touches her, "Draco, I think this is it."

Draco doesn't quite believe because how can a part of him be so beautiful and brave and free? "A phoenix," he whispers. "You're a phoenix."

She leans in to his touch, "You're a phoenix too, Draco."

When they get back to the common room Pansy and Shax are waiting for them. She's mostly over Draco now. Mostly. She stands up, face stern, hands on hips, ready to scold him for sneaking out yet again, but then she sees Adrasteia perched on Draco's shoulder.

Draco's swelling of pride vanishes.

She gapes and Shax whines. "Draco! She's a- a phoenix!" she squeaks.

Adrasteia huffs and swoops off Draco's shoulder to perch on top of the fire place.

"Is she settled?" Pansy asks still staring at her. When Draco nods, she says, "Ah."

A phoenix; such a Gryffindor animal, and a black one at that. It wouldn't matter to the world that Adrasteia was beautiful and strong and unique. All they'd see was a Malfoy with a daemon horribly wrong for him.

And what will his parents think?

He doesn't tell them she's settled, he figures he'll cross that bridge when he goes home for the summer. Adrasteia snaps at him whenever he thinks about it. His mother won't mind, his father might just die of shame. Draco spends so much time worrying about it even Theodore Nott starts getting concerned about them.

And then suddenly it doesn't seem to matter anymore and their world starts to disintegrate.

Draco finds out about his father's arrest in the Daily Prophet the morning after it happens.

He notices something's wrong when everyone stops talking and stares at him when he walks in to the Great Hall for breakfast. Pansy snatches up the paper and Shax whines at her feet, "Draco, Draco, I'm sorry," she says.

When he sees his father's picture staring back at him he gets on the first train to Wiltshire. It takes Narcissa a week to realise Adrasteia has settled and even then she doesn't say anything, they have bigger things to worry about.

Most of the Death Eaters have spiders or snakes or scorpion daemons, something small and deadly, something easily hidden. Fenris Greyback has, aptly, a mangy Gray wolf that leers and snaps at any daemon that gets close. His aunt Bellatix has a gangly black cat that cackles and likes to catch other daemons between his teeth.

Adrasteia is bigger than most of their daemons but Draco still shudders at thought of any of them. Their poison, their fangs. The Death Eaters daemons like to play a game; they like to sneak up on Adrasteia, the spiders and scorpions sting her, the snakes drop out of nowhere and coil around her throat, Fenris' Haiti snatches her by the wing and shakes and Bellatrix's Dionysus likes to pull out her feathers.

Draco feels every, single, thing.

Addie could fight them off. Addie could snap them in two.

But they can't.

If they do, they're dead. Their mother's dead.

So they do nothing, they let it happen, they let worse happen. They cower and curse themselves, no doubt saint Potter and his scrawny rabbit would have already saved the world.

Draco contents himself with thinking up really imaginative deaths for everyone who touches them. They start getting used to it, to the atmosphere of fear that has become their lives, and then they meet Voldermort.

They're assembled in what used to be their dining room. Bellatrix is sauntering around the room, Di at her heels, making sure everyone is presentable. His mother puts a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispers. "You shouldn't have to be here."

Voldermort appears in the middle of the room in a cloud of black mist and Draco recoils immediately.

The Dark Lord is accompanied as always by his huge snake, Nagini. The snake Draco had always assumed was his daemon. But now Draco could feel it, the emptiness, the wrongness. It was abject, it was other, it was impossible.

On his shoulder Adrasteia digs her claws in hard enough to draw blood and presses herself to him, trembling.

Voldermort didn't have a daemon.

He strides across the room, smiling eerily and a hush falls across the room. "Ah, Draco," he purrs. "You look so like your father." with one skeletal, white hand he caressed Draco's cheek and it takes all Draco has not to flinch.

Voldermort grins and turns away and what happens next is so fast Draco doesn't even see it. Greyback's Haiti leaps and captures Adrasteia in her jaws before trotting back to her human. Draco cries out in pain, "Addie! Please don't hurt her."

Voldermort grins at Draco's outburst and walks over to the wolf still holding Adrasteia firmly between her jaws and Fenris laughs. "Interesting, isn't it?" the Dark Lord says, "That out daemons can be our greatest strength and yet our greatest weaknesses, isn't it Draco?"

He knells down, as though to inspect the daemon further. "Now, your father's daemon is beautiful. Yours is too, I suppose. A phoenix? Interesting. And such lovely colouring."

He reaches out

And Draco almost falls over.

Lord Voldermort stands up holding the phoenix.

Holding Draco's daemon.

"I have a task for you, Draco," Voldermort says, stroking Adrasteia fur.

Draco sways, he feels nauseas, he feels faint. He stumbles back, "You can't...You shouldn't...Let her go," he mumbles. "Let her go, please."

Voldermort grins and without warning twists one of Adrasteia wings, he starts to back away, tugging at the bond between Draco and Adrasteia.

The pain is blinding and Draco crumples.

Addie twists weakly, "Draco!"

"Will you do exactly as I say?" Voldermort asks.

"Yes, yes," Draco gasps. "Yes, anything. Just let her go!"

Voldermort smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's not sure why more people don't notice it, or maybe they do and they just keep quiet. Harry notices it right away, the stark white hand print on Adrasteia's dark feathers. Neala points it out as the other boy passes them on the platform. She's sat on his shoulder and he's half listening to Hermione and Ron arguing over which compartment to take.

"Harry," she says softly. "Harry, look."

Adrasteia looks awful. She's sat on Draco's shoulder heavily, eyes closed, trembling slightly. Her feathers are no longer an explosion of subtle colours; they're dark, pitch black, heavy like oil, but for the pale handprint on her side. The implications are grotesque and Neala shivers.

"Do you think...?" she asks, trailing off. She doesn't need to finish because Harry knows what she's implying, who she means.

In the graveyard after Cedric had been killed, after his badger daemon vanished with a pained howl Voldermort had tried to touch Neala. He'd tried to lift her, strangle her but she'd been too quick, had darted so far away from Harry that he'd cried out in pain. But she was safe, hidden amongst the graves and fog and none of the other Death Eaters had gone after her. Even they looked sickened at the idea of touching another person's daemon.

Harry watches as Pansy and Blaise exchange looks, Pansy's pug daemon nestled in her arms turns away, buries his face in Pansy's breast. They don't say anything; they just follow Draco on board.

He knows Draco is up to something, he knows something about Draco is different. When they had seen him at Borgin and Burkes Harry had thought he was a Death Eater, loyal like his father. But now he didn't think Draco had been given much of a choice in the matter.

He settles in to the compartment and Neala clambers down in to his lap. "What do you think he wants Draco to do?" she asks softly.

Harry runs a hand through her messy brown fur. "Something bad."

"What's something bad?" Ron asks loudly, Kirek cocks her head at them.

"Nothing," Harry says, trying his best to smile.

He watches Draco during the feast. He doesn't eat anything and Adrasteia doesn't move at all. Pansy is watching him worriedly, Blaise is trying to pretend nothing is wrong and Crabbe and Goyle look ignorant to the whole thing.

Hermione catches Harry staring and Adrial, her raven daemon, swoops down from where he'd been chatting with a few other bird daemons to sit on her shoulder, matching her questioning glare. She doesn't ask until later when they're safely in the common room. They're alone but for Ron and Kirek who had eaten enough food at the feast to be rendered comatose.

"It's his daemon," he explains. "She has a- has a mark on her. She looks awful."

A sympathetic look crosses Hermione's face, "I know, we noticed." She says flatly.

Adrial shudders, "You think it was Voldermort." He says quietly.

"Who else could it be?" Harry hisses back.

"Why him?"

"In the graveyard," Harry says as Neala presses closer to him. "He tried to touch Neala. He doesn't have a daemon Hermione, I don't think he sees anything wrong with touching anyone elses."

Hermione sighs, "Look, Harry, even if it was there's nothing you can do."

"Why? Because he's a bad guy?" Harry snaps and Neala bristles, "I don't care about that Hermione, Voldermort has probably asked him to do something awful and we have to stop it."

"No, idiot." Adrial caws and Hermione shushes him.

"We know, Harry. But you can't help him because he won't let you."

Harry looks away because he knows Hermione is right. "It's just...I wish we could do something."

Adrial makes a soft, sympathetic sound. "I know you do, Harry." Hermione says. "But please, leave it alone."

Harry can't leave it alone and Neala doesn't help. She sits on his pillow at night, "What if Draco's trying to kill you? Or Hermione? Or if he's trying to destroy Hogwarts? Or raise an army of arcromantula?"

Harry snorts. "Draco in the forbidden forest? Don't you remember our first year?" Neala sniggers fondly at the memory of Draco and Adrasteia, wolf shaped, running screaming through the trees.

"But still, Harry." She says.

Harry sighs, pulls out the map and leaves her to pour over it. This has become a nightly occurrence since the incident with Katie and necklace. He still shudders when he thinks of her levitated, mouth open in a silent scream, her hawk daemon frozen on the ground, trying desperately to move, to get to her.

He closes his eyes but the memory is still there.

Neala nuzzles him, "It's okay. She's okay."

He knows but it was so close. Katie almost died. He nods mutely and Neala goes back to the map. Harry's honestly not sure how she does it but he's glad she does, he doesn't think he could stay awake watching the map and if something were to happen... He shakes his head; it's full of thoughts of Draco and Voldermort.

Earlier that evening Dumbledore had shown Harry a memory from his pensive from a time when Voldermort had still had a daemon. She had been a pale serpent, coiled around his wrist like a bracelet, unmoving. She hadn't spoken, hadn't even looked at him or at the other daemons around her. Harry had wondered if she was already dead inside and Neala had licked his cheek comfortingly.

He rolls over and tries to tune out the gentle buzz of Neala's thoughts and sleep. (He's unsuccessful)

It's Neala's idea to follow Draco to that bathroom. She nips his ear and hisses "Go after him!" so forcefully that Harry's half way out of the great hall before he starts to question his actions.

There are a lot of things Harry thought he might be doing but finding Draco Malfoy sobbing was definitely not one of them. Adrasteia is perched on the other side of the bathroom, watching Draco sombrely and Draco's mumbling, "Sorry, Addie. Sorry, I just can't...I'm going to fail...he's going to...Oh, Addie I'm so sorry."

Adrasteia doesn't speak and Harry's overwhelmed by a mixture of sympathy and the feeling that this is something no one is meant to see. Neala's shaking slightly and Harry whispers, "Why doesn't she go to him?"

"Harry, I don't think she can," Neala whispers, clambering off his shoulders and into his arms. "She's- I don't know- she's angry with him, she wants to go to him but I don't think she can." Neala sounds so unsure and that terrifies Harry. She's always been sure of everything. She's always been the one who guides him.

"Ne-" he begins but he stops because Adrasteia spots them and Draco looks up and his face contorts with rage.

"Potter!" he snarls and Adrasteia swoops down with a terrifying screech and Harry's pretty sure he sees flames dance along her wings. Neala springs out of his arms and Harry draws his wand just in time to block the curse Draco shoots at him.

Spells ricochet across the bathroom and Harry looses himself in it until he feels a sharp tug and Neala cries out. Harry spins around to look for her and Draco mumbles, "Addie..."

The phoenix has the hare caught firmly in her talons, she's flying higher and higher and she looks possessed and Neala is struggling and crying and Harry's crying too because their bond is stretched to the limit. He realises what Adrasteia is about to do a fraction of a second before Draco does, he knows this because Draco doesn't move before him. Adrasteia is going to drop her.

Harry knows that if a human dies their daemon dies with them so if a daemon dies their human should die with them too. He can't move to catch her because Draco's wand is trained on him.

"Draco make her stop!" Harry cries desperately.

Draco blinks at him dazedly and Adrasteia cries out and it's a cry so filled with pain and anguish and longing that it tears Harry in two. Harry points his wand at Malfoy and uses the first spell that comes to mind.

"Sectumsempra!"

Draco falls, blood shoots everywhere. Adrasteia lets out a strangled gasp, bursts of gold flying from her and let's go of the hare. Harry catches her and she clambers in to his shirt and presses as close as she can to him whispering, "Harry, Harry, Harry."

He cradles her, tears blurring his vision and looks up at where Draco lies, whimpering as blood blossoms across the front of his torn robes and runs in to the water around him. Adrasteia is beside him making a low, whining sound and Harry realises she's slowly drifting apart.

Draco is dying.

"Neala," Harry whispers because she needs to tell him what to do but she's still trembling against his chest, her blunt claws scrabbling against him.

He's never been so glad to see to Snape, in fact he's pretty he's more glad than anyone has ever been to see Snape. He sweeps in and pushes Harry out of the way and his hawk daemon lands beside Adrasteia.

Harry's sort of mumbling apologies and trying to explain himself but Snape silences him with a look and gives him enough detentions for a lifetime. He's going to miss the Quiditch game and Ginny and her red kite daemon are going to kill him but that's the least of his worries.

"We almost killed him, Neal." He says to her later after he's hidden the book in the room of requirement.

Neala still has talon marks in her side. "If we had killed him at least he wouldn't have done whatever he's supposed to do." She says darkly. Harry would scold her but he knows she doesn't mean it. "We should still probably go and see if he's okay, though." she adds quietly, nipping his finger gently.

Harry agrees so they grab the invisibility cloak and sneak out of the common room and down to the hospital wing.

Draco is the only person in there at the moment; he's covered in bandages and dead to the world. He looks awful, dark circles on under his eyes skin so pale it's almost translucent. Adrasteia is perched on the window sill above his bed. They stop and Harry's not entirely sure what to do now.

"I can see you, you know."

They both jump at the sudden voice and Harry looks up to find the phoenix watching him. "How?" Neala splutters as Harry lets the cloak fall off him.

The phoenix ruffles her feathers. "I don't know, I am a phoenix though."

Harry's not sure what's weirder; the fact that Draco's daemon can see through the cloak or the fact that his daemon is talking to them while he's asleep. Daemons aren't meant to talk to humans other than their own this much, especially not without their human's permission.

"I'm sorry," Harry says quietly. "For what I did to you and Draco."

Adrasteia hops down, on to the bed and Neala stiffens against him. "I know you are," she says softly, watching Neala inquisitively. "I'm sorry for-" she stretches her wings and Harry nods to show he's understood. "I don't...I didn't...I never meant to. Things are difficult for us."

"If Snape and his hawk hadn't been there..." Harry says.

Adrasteia laughs softly. "Algos isn't a hawk."

"What?"

"Snape's daemon, she isn't a hawk. She's a cuckoo hawk."

Harry exchanges a glance with Neala and they both silently agree to trust Snape even less. If your daemon is a reflection of your soul then what does it say about you if your daemon picks an animal that pretends to be something else. Neala, feeling a little bolder scrambles out of Harry's arms and joins Adrasteia on the bed, sniffing at her curiously. "How are you so alert?" she asks.

Adrasteia looks down at her and shivers slightly. "He likes to play with daemons." Her voice could cut steel. They both know she's talking about Voldermort.

Neala looks like she's going to ask further questions and Harry doesn't want to hear what Voldermort does to daemons so he interrupts. "Voldermort asked you to do something, didn't he?"

The phoenix glares at him. "Yes. But no, I won't tell you what."

"We could help you," Harry says immediately.

"No, you couldn't."

"Dumbledore could," Neala tries.

At the mention of Dumbledore Adrasteia shivers. "No, no. He couldn't."

Harry opens his mouth to say something but Draco turns in his sleep and mumbles, "Addie...Addie..." and Adrasteia looks at him sorrowfully.

"You should go."

Harry doesn't want to leave and neither does Neala but they do and just before they go Neala shuffles forwards and touches her nose briefly to the phoenix. Harry shivers at the sudden warmth and on the bed Draco stills.

"If you need help you can always come to us, you know." Neala says softly.

Adrasteia inclines her head and Harry scoops Neala up before leaving. "Do you think they'll ask for help?" the hare asks quietly.

Harry wants to say yes but it's hard to lie to your daemon.

Later when Gryffindor win the cup he kisses Ginny. Her daemon, Aleto is nuzzling Neala with his beak but Neala looks bored, disinterested. Harry's a bit preoccupied with an armful of Ginny when it happens but he can't help but feel her distaste.

He asks her about it later.

"I don't know Harry," she says with a sigh. "It just didn't feel right."

"I thought you liked Al."

"I do, just not like that, I guess."


	3. Chapter 3

"We have to do it tonight, Addie."

"Draco, I don't-"

"We have to."

The phoenix hops down and bits his finger. He doesn't mind the pain; at least she's touching him. "Draco, you know this is wrong." Adrasteia says, her eyes deep and sorrowful.

Draco swallows. Of course he knows. He's about to destroy Hogwarts; his home for the better part of his life. He's about to let death eaters, the most depraved, awful, people imaginative in to a school. He's about to kill someone. If he doesn't his parents will die, his daemon will be cut away and worse. A braver man would have taken the pain to spare everyone else but Draco Malfoy knows he's not a brave man, Addie shouldn't be a phoenix, he thinks, she should be something small and cowardly and selfish.

"Are you sure you're settled?" he'd asked about a thousand times.

She used to laugh and spread her wings and flap shimmering flames towards him. Now she would turn away and whisper, "Yes." As though she were ashamed.

Addie knows what he's thinking but she doesn't say anything.

"I know," Draco says, in a choked voice.

She looks at him for a very long time and sighs. He wants her to change. He wants her to become a huge polar bear or a tiger so he can bury his face in her fur and hide. He wants his daemon to comfort him, to tell him it'll all be okay. But she doesn't. She hops on to his shoulder and stiffens when he leans his head against her solid warmth.

"Addie, I'm-"

"Sorry, yes, so you've said," she snaps stiffly. "Let's get on with this, shall we?"

Draco shudders and pads down to open the vanishing cabinet, once that's done he climbs shakily up to the astronomy tower and waits. Adrasteia sits as far away as she dares. He feels a dull throb in his chest where she's tugging on his bond.

It's just one spell, he tells himself. One, little, spell. Just do it and go. Just do it and go.

When Dumbledore arrives it all becomes real. In his head, hiding in the darkened stairs waiting for Dumbledore's arrival it was simple. Disarm him, one spell, don't think about it, just do it.

But now he's here and it's so real.

Disarm him.

He does. Dumbledore's great owl daemon sits stoically on his shoulder; her golden eyes watch him solemnly. They're the same shade as Addie's.

One spell, don't think about it.

But he does. He falters; because one spell will kill Albus Dumbledore. His owl daemon will vanish in a cloud of golden dust. He can feel Addie, somewhere in shadows behind him, he can feel her terror, her disgust, he can feel her begging him not to do it.

Killing tears apart the soul; that's why Voldermort doesn't have a daemon, that's why the death eater's daemons are so broken, why Draco has never seen his father touch his daemon.

But he's already lost Addie, hasn't he?

"You're not a killer, Draco," Dumbledore is saying quietly, softly, fatherly. "You don't have to do this."

Sometimes Draco likes to think about who he'd be with different parents.

One spell, don't think.

He raises his wand again and he's crying and he's begging Dumbledore to understand because that might just make it easier.

One spell.

Then Dumbledore's daemon says very softly, "Draco, if you do this you'll lose everything." And her voice is smooth and rich and musical.

Draco breaks.

He can't do this.

But he has to.

"We'll lose everything if we don't," Addie says softly and Draco jumps and glances back. She's hovering beside his head, she lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy and there.

He wonders if Dumbledore feels the same thing when his daemon perches on his shoulder.

"Addie, I can't." He whispers.

She leans against him, "I know."

They're going to die and there's this part of Draco that's sort of okay with that. There's not going to be any more pain, no more uncertainty, no one threatening to take Addie away.

And then Snape bursts through the door, the other death eaters appear behind him, and it's over in a flash of green and a puff of gold.

"Draco, you have to move." Snape's daemon, Algos screams in his ear.

They're lead out and it's like a dream, there's spells and explosions and Snape pushing him, shoving him away.

Run Draco.

"They wouldn't have done it," Neala says.

"I know," Harry whispers, stroking her ears.

"Ron and Hermione won't let us leave without them."

"I know."

"We'll find the horcruxes, Harry."

"Yeah, I know."

They're at the Burrow and Harry's not sure he's fully processed what happened to Dumbledore. He's definitely not processed the Draco Malfoy situation. He's always known there was something about the other boy, ever since they met in Diagon Alley when their daemons had played together and then Adrasteia had settled as a phoenix and well, Harry was lost. He'd known Draco was a death eater but seeing him on the Astronomy tower that night had been awful.

"We'll find him too." She says, burrowing deeper in to his shirt.

He holds her close. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

The strangest thing about the spell Hermione casts is what it does to Neala.

It's hard to disguise daemons usually, but this one does and Harry's left marvelling at how clever she is. Neala is crouched beneath his shirt on his shoulder, dormouse form, tiny and delicate, and it's the strangest thing. Her little pinprick claws dig into his flesh, I'm here, they whisper, I'm here.

They've been hauled in to Malfoy Manor, Harry's never been here before but he's pretty sure the Manor is falling apart. They're thrown into the sitting room and he knows by the way Bellatrix's mangy cat daemon glances at him that they know; for a death eater she's disappointingly easy to read. He can see the way she's trembling with excitement (she's found him, she's going to give Harry Potter to the Dark Lord) but there's fear too because what if he's not Harry Potter?

"It'll be okay," Neala whispers, nuzzling his shoulder. She's trembling with anger because she took Sirius from them and gods if she was any bigger...

Bellatrix straightens, a smirk on her face, her daemon trembles, giggles. "Bring Draco," she says, turning to her sister.

Narcissa's eyes go wide- she looks wrecked, trembling, tired, pale, beside her Lucius stiffens. Their daemons are at war with each other; the snow leopard, once so elegant, looks rabid, snarling at the swan that hisses back. Harry has no idea what they're arguing about but he figures Narcissa looses (or maybe she wins) because she purses her lips, stands up and leaves the room.

Shit, he thinks, they know, they know.

He can feel the spell wearing off; like sand slipping through his fingers.

"It'll be okay," Neala repeats.

It won't be, but Ron's here and Hermione's here and they've been through worse; they'll get through this too.

Draco is led in by his mother, so pale he's almost translucent. His eyes are wide and dull and there's something wholly wrong about him. Neala is trembling, whimpering and beside them Hermione's Adrial is fluttering about and Kirek is whining. "His daemon Harry, where's his daemon?" Neala whispers.

He realises it with a joke, Draco is alone. A wave of nausea breaks over him and it's all he can do to keep from retching, Ron isn't so strong however and he full on gasps, Kirek pressing herself to him.

Bellatrix grabs Draco by the shirt collar, shoves him towards Harry and the nausea is replaced by sympathy. Draco's arms are wrapped around himself, his hands clutching at the fabric of his dark shirt, like he's desperately trying to hold himself together. He's trembling all over and Harry can feel Neala aching to comfort the other boy.

"Is that Harry Potter?" Bellatrix asks, her daemon spitting, hissing, laughing.

Draco knows it's him. Harry knows he does.

"Come on, Draco," Bellatrix leans downs, brushes Draco's hair back. It should be a comforting gesture but Draco shudders and it just looks obscene. "You can tell me."

Draco swallows, "I don't..."

Bellatrix grip on Draco's shoulder tightens, her knuckles go white and her cat daemon is so close to him they're almost touching. Harry trembles, no, please no, he thinks, come on Draco, just say no.

"Draco, come on, answer me." Bella hisses.

"I...No, no I don't think it is."

She pushes Draco away in disgust and Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

But of course, as always, it all falls apart.

They're thrown into the cellar, Kirek still howling for Adrial and Hermione and Harry's head still spinning. The cellar is freezing, dark and dank and Harry turns just in time to see Peter and his rat daemon smirking as he locks them in.

"The hell do we do now?" Ron snarls, rattling the door.

Harry's about to reply but Neala leaps of his shoulders (she's a hare again, and Harry's so, so glad) She disappears into the darkness without a word and Harry follows when he feels a tug. "Lumos." He whispers.

He hears low voices, like a buzz in his ears; Ron's following behind him slowly, whispering to Kirek. Harry pauses when he reaches Neala.

She's crouched beside a cage and she's not alone. "Hello, Harry." Luna says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world, her blue bird daemon flutter over to greet Kirek. She looks remarkably unharmed and Harry's glad.

"Luna, how long have you been here?"

She shrugs, "Not as long Mr Ollivander."

"The wand maker?" Ron echoes. Neala's still talking to someone in the cage and Harry cranes his neck to see who (or what?) but it's dark in the cage and he's too far away.

"Oh yes, I can take you too him if you like, he's resting." She stands and Harry glances at Ron who gets his meaning immediately. Ron follows Luna, they chatter quietly and Harry kneels down beside the cage, Neala jumps into his lap.

"Adrasteia!"

The phoenix is sat at the back, feathers rumpled. "Hi," she croaks.

He feels a rush of relief; he's seen severed daemons in documentaries, mute, zombie-like creatures. "You're not severed," he says with relief.

"No, just...stretched." her voice is soft, quiet, not at all like it used to be, back when she and Neala would fight in school, yelling at each other, not like years ago when they played as their humans got fitted for their school robes. She shuffles closer and presses herself up against the bars.

"I'll let you out," Harry says, drawing his wand.

"Can't. It's a special spell; it can only be undone by the one who cast it."

"Who cast it?" Harry asks, like he doesn't already know the answer.

Adrasteia laughs and Harry's not sure if he's ever heard her laugh properly before, it's a beautiful sound like the tinkling of crystal. "It wasn't Voldermort," she says. "That wouldn't be torturous enough for him."

"Lucius," Neala says quietly and Adrasteia nods; "If Lucius lets me go He'll kill us. He'll kill us all. You need to get out of here. You need to save us, save him, please."

"We will," Harry says. "I promise."

They get out. They get out and Hermione has a scars and Dobby dies and they end up at this quaint little seaside cottage that is so at odds with everything else that Harry almost laughs. He ends up with Draco's wand and Neala takes to sniffing and nuzzling it.

Harry doesn't ask why.

Doesn't need to.

"Why do you care so much about Malfoy?" Ron asks the evening before they go to Hogsmede. "He's a death eater, Harry."

Harry's long since given up trying to get Ron to see the humanity in Death Eaters. He understands, the Weasley's have lost a lot in this war and Draco's never given him a reason to sympathise and maybe it's because he's still relatively new to the world of wizardry, he doesn't get their family dynamics, their beliefs. "No one deserves to be treated like that, Ron."

When Draco appears in the Room of Requirement Harry almost has a heart attack.

It's not just the shock of something else going wrong, it's the realisation that Draco is still alone and he's so far from his daemon but he's still upright, he's still functioning and it's ridiculous. How is he even vertical?

"Well, well," Draco says, smooth as ever, but there's a tremble in his wand hand, a slight hollow quality to his voice. "What brings you here, Potter?"

It's almost like nothing's changed. Crabbe and Goyle are flanking him, daemons snarling, seemingly unfazed by Draco's lack of daemon (or maybe they just haven't noticed, Neala whispers) "Could ask you the same." He says, cautiously.

"You have something of mine." Draco continues ice cold. "I'd like it back."

Neala rubs against his leg, Stall him, Harry, you can talk him down.

"What's wrong with the one you have?"

"It's my mother's," there's a sneer in his voice, a slight edge when he says the word mother. "It's powerful, but it's not the same. Doesn't quite understand me, know what I mean?"

Harry wonders if Draco's enjoying this; showing off for his little cronies, pretending he's still Draco Malfoy; Prince of Slytherin House, pretending his life isn't crumbling around him.

Neala flicks her ears, Ron and Hermione are coming, I can hear them.

"Why didn't you tell her?" he licks his lips. "Bellatrix."

A flicker of emotion passes across Draco's face feardisgustloathing.

"You knew it was me, but you didn't say anything."

Draco's resolve almost crumbles completely. He's trembling again, breathing heavily. Goyle leans in and says something too low for Harry to hear but he assumes it's nothing good.

Draco swallows, raises his wand.

Harry, they're here!

"Expelliamus!" Hermione yells and Draco runs.

The rooms on fire and they're flying.

The room is on fire and they're flying.

Neala is tucked safely into his shirt.

This is almost as weird as ridding a dragon out of Gringotts.

He spots Draco and Goyle on top of a burning pile.

"Harry!" Neala yells, "Harry, Draco! We promised her, we promised."

"I know," he whispers.

When Harry gets to him, heave him on to the broom and he's trembling against him, Neala leans out of his shirt and touches her nose to Draco's hand where it's balled in Harry's shirt.

It's like lightning and fire and a warm summer breeze. It's wrong but its right and it's simultaneously the weirdest and the most amazing thing Harry's ever felt. Draco stiffens against him and Harry knows he's about to snatch his hand away.

"Don't let go, Draco. Don't you dare let go, you'll fall and I won't be able to catch you."

"We'll get her back, Draco," Neala says. "We'll get Addie back."

Draco makes a sound that sounds like a sob and his grip tightens.

In the woods, after he's watched his home torn apart, his friends slaughtered, after he's learnt Snape was probably the best man he's ever known and after he's been killed and come back to life, in the woods when Narcissa leans in and asks if Draco's alive Harry knows why cares so much about Draco.

The thing about soul mates is that when your soul is a living, breathing, talking entity you can't deny it very long.

He's heard the story countless times, it's been the subject of hundreds of films and books and poems and songs; person A and person B don't get along, their daemons do though. He's seen it happen in front him with Ron and Hermione, he's heard Sirius talk about his parents, he should have known. Neala had always liked Adrasteia, even when they fought and bickered.

"Is he alive?" Narcissa whispers, her swan daemon nudging Neala (in an almost tender, motherly way)

Harry nods, imperceptible, the swan pushes Neala (still stunned) towards Harry's jacket and Narcissa bends to quickly zip her inside. She straightens up.

"He's dead."

The Death Eaters cheer.

In the aftermath of the war, after Voldermort's been defeated and his followers have scattered Harry searches the crowd for Lucius Malfoy. He finds him hovering awkwardly in the grounds, presumably looking for his wife and son.

"Let her go." He spits. "Go now, let her go."

To his surprise Lucius turns on his heel, his leopard daemon following, head bowed, without a single word.

Nestled inside his shirt Neala smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

When Draco and his mother get home the first thing that greets him is a ball of trembling black feathers and Addie, Addie, Addie. She's whispering nonsense into his skin and for the first time in years Draco feels whole.

His mother and Silvain cry.

His father and Kali watch from a distance, Kali's head is up and her fur is glossy. After a few moments they turn away and stalk back in to the depths of the mansion.

For a few weeks they're left alone with ghosts.

Draco can't go anywhere without being assaulted by memories, murders, tortures, severings. (He can still hear their screams if he closes his eyes) Adrasteia refuses to be in the same room as his father, flies off to sulk in his bedroom when they have their quiet, terse dinners. Lucius spends all his time in his study; his mother spends all her time trying to get the mansion back to its former glory.

Then one day a group of auros apparate in and arrest his father.

Draco thinks he should feel something, something more than Addie's claws tight on his shoulder.

When their gone his mother hugs him and cries and Draco's not sure whether it's from relief or despair. He thinks maybe it's both.

They leave the next day; go to their holiday home in Wales. It's on the outskirts of a muggle town, they're alone. Free. He sleeps through the night for the first time in a year and he starts eating again without feeling like he's about to throw up immediately after.

He still sees ghosts everywhere, relives everything he did, thing he had done to him.

It takes him almost a week to notice that Adrasteia leaves at night when she thinks he's asleep. Their bond is different now, it's still strong as ever, he can half-see what she sees as she soars across the British countryside, can still half hear her conversation with whoever she meets every night. They're stretched but still whole, like the ancient witches of the North during the time of the armoured bears.

He's summoned to the ministry in late July.

As a witness.

And then again as Death Eater.

His mother picks out a fancy suit for both days and Silvain preens Addie until her feathers gleam.

The first trial is terrifying.

He's sat in front of the Wizengamot, Adrasteia on his shoulder whispering comfortingly. The new head of Wizengamot is a sharp eyed young man with hawk daemon with a grizzled left wing. Death Eaters are led in one by one and Draco is forced to retell every vile thing he saw them do.

They jeer and their daemons snap and growl and grumble at him.

"It's okay, Draco," Addie whispers. "We're okay."

He's okay until they lead out his father.

Kali strides in by his side, teeth bared, head raised regally; her fur has lost its lustre once again but she looks no less terrifying. His father has one hand buried in her ruff and he regards Draco with cold eyes. This is the man who raised him, who taught him to be the second best in his year at Hogwarts, who taught him to fly and to read. This is the man who taught him to hate and to be cruel and vile. This the man who separated him from his daemon, who made him suffer because he was too cowardly to say no. This is the man who made all the wrong choices. Draco feels like a child again, an awkward little boy with a daemon who won't settle and a chip on his shoulder big enough to bring him down.

Addie nips his ear. "It's okay."

And he believes her.

Draco's mouth his dry and he's shaking but he answers every one of their questions. When he's done the man with the hawk daemon (Neil Smith) offers him a warm smile, "Very well done, Draco. You've helped us a lot; this should help you out a lot too."

"Th-Thank you, sir." He says, standing unsteadily.

Smith smiles again, "You're welcome. Now you better go, you'll need your rest for tomorrow."

His mother meets him in the hallway, pulls him into a tight embrace. "You did so well, Dragon. So well." She takes him by the hand and leads him to the lift. "We'll go back to the hotel and have some dinner and an early night." There's a hint of desperation in her voice, an undercurrent of fear, it reminds him far too much of their time with Voldermort.

He clears his throat, "Mother tomorrow will be-"

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand and her mouth trembles. "We'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow." By her feet Silvain makes a small, distressed noise and Draco smiles and nods because she needs him to.

They're about to leave when someone calls his name.

He's expecting a reporter or maybe someone about to call him death eater scum and spit on him or something. He's not expecting Hermione Granger standing there determinedly, her raven daemon regarding them coolly.

"One minute Mother," he mutters, striding over to where Hermione is hovering. He shifts slightly awkwardly, "Granger," He greets.

She smiles weakly, "You really did well in there."

"Thanks," he mumbles. He wonders if he should apologise (he knows he should) or if he should ask how she's doing. Adrasteia stretches her wings nervously and he stammers, "I don't-" falls short when he realise he has no idea what he was about to say.

Her daemon makes a short breathless sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh and Hermione reaches up to stroke his glossy feathers. "I just wanted to tell you that Harry will be there tomorrow, for your defence."

"Blessed saint Potter," he mumbles for the both of them because resentment is easy, familiar.

She smiles again but as she lifts a hand to brush back her bushy curls her sleeve rides down and there's that shiny scar on her arm. Puckered and pink, jagged letters; mudblood. He shudders and in his head he hears her screams. Adrasteia takes off with a sudden caw and he jerks back.

She stares after Addie in confusion until she catches him staring. "Oh," she gasps, tugging her sleeve down.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles quickly. "I'm sorry-I..."

She cuts him off, "It wasn't your fault."

Yes it was. "But-"

"It wasn't your fault, Draco." She repeats firmly and her brown eyes tell him she's not lying.

"Okay," he sighs.

She regards him for a few moments, "You're not a bad person Draco."

He scoffs. "Yes I am."

"Not an evil person then," she amends as Addie flutters back down to perch on his shoulder.

"Maybe not." He accepts.

His trial is over far quicker then he would have thought.

They read out a list of his crimes and his mother cries quietly then they parade a group of witnesses through both condemning and defending. When Potter walks out, hare daemon bouncing merrily along by his feet, the whole court room seems to hold its breath.

Potter smiles at him before he starts talking and Adrasteia shudders.

He doesn't want to think about why.

He's acquitted and again, his mother cries.

Draco thinks he should probably feel glad, elated even, but he doesn't. He hasn't felt much of anything since the War. Again, Granger is waiting for him upstairs this time with Potter. Draco's not surprised that the Weasel is absent.

He shuffles over to them and mumbles out thank you's and Hermione smiles and Harry pats him awkwardly on the arm. "It was nothing," he says dismissively.

"No, you only spared my life, Potter. You're right it was nothing." He mutters.

Harry laughs and Hermione smiles again, "Are you coming back to Hogwarts?" she asks, serious all of a sudden.

"I hadn't planned on it." People won't be too happy to see me.

"You should," Harry says, "You won't be able to be a healer without your NEWTS."

Draco blanches, "Who-" but then he looks down at Addie who's sat by Neala and looks up at him, all innocence. Oh. "Traitor," he mutters.

He does go back for eighth year in the end. After all, it's better than moping around the manor. He feels bad for leaving his mother alone but she assures him she'll be fine and promises to write to him every week.

He arrives early on the first day of term and unpacks in the eighth year dormitories. He's not the first to arrive judging by the neat trunks at the end of two of the beds, charmed to have Gryffindor spreads. Draco assumes its Potter and the Weasel and runs a hand through the purple spread on his own bed.

"We should leave it like this," Addie says softly. "It's a nice colour. Much better than green."

Draco nods in mute agreement. "Let's go for a walk in the grounds."

They don't come back in until it's time for the feast. The eighth years have their own table and Draco's not surprised to see most of the year has returned (apart from the Slytherins of course) He quite literally runs in to Harry at the doors to the Great Hall and for a moment they both stare at each other. On his shoulder Adrasteia giggles breathlessly and leans against him.

"Potter," he sneers.

Harry smiles, almost relieved, "Malfoy," he says curtly.

They sit at opposite ends of the table and their daemons talk quietly together under it. Draco tries to ignore the warmth in his belly as he listens to the gentle buzz of their conversation.

They fall together naturally, inevitably, after the Christmas celebration on the last day of term.

Draco's head is muzzy from the mead he's been sneaking all evening and there's a pleasant warmth thrumming through his veins. He's fallen into an (un)easy friendship with most of the eighth years, he studies with Granger, he goes flying with Harry and the rest of them tolerate him (well most of them anyway).

He's not sure why or entirely how but he finds himself at the top of the astronomy tower, swinging his legs over the edge and thinking about all the times he's been here in the past. Adrasteia soars over the grounds, singing to herself merrily and it occurs to Draco that he's never been this content in his entire life.

And then he's interrupted by Harry.

"Draco? What on earth are you doing up here?"

Draco turns to him and smirks, "Oh, you know. Admiring the view." He long ago accepted the fact that he was attracted to boys rather than girls, his mother was fine with it, his father not so much.

"Mind if I join you?"

"By all means."

Neala is snug between his arms and as soon as he sits down the hare scrambles down and sits, gazing out at Adrasteia. "What happened to her when you died?" Draco asks, staring at the daemon.

Harry runs a hand through the hare's ratty brown fur. "I don't actually know to tell you the truth," he admits. "She wasn't there when I was...wherever I was. But she was back again when I woke up."

Adrasteia returns to him and settles on the ground beside Neala. "So when we die they aren't with us?" He can't imagine not having her there.

Harry wriggles and scrunches up his face (an action which Draco's drunken brain classes as adorable) "I dunno, I mean she wasn't physically there but I didn't feel alone, if that makes any sense."

Draco remembers being stretched, how it hurt so godamned much but he could still feel Addie there even if she was miles away. "It does," he says quietly.

Harry smiles a little sympathetically. "Will you be going home tomorrow?"

"Yeah, can't leave mother alone for Christmas. Will you miss me, Potter?" he teases.

"Oh yeah, I'll count down the days until your return." Harry replies with a wry smile.

They talk a little and at some point (Draco's not entirely sure who moved first or how) but he ends up kissing Harry like his life depends on it.

And Harry kisses back.

He thinks he hears Adrasteia sigh, "Finally."

"We can't," he mumbles against Harry's lips.

"I know."

"This is wrong," he moans.

Harry bits down on his collar bone. "Draco, shut up."

Draco decides he's in love on a frosty January morning when Harry falls over in the snow and lies giggling for a full five minutes as Neala bounds around him. It's disgustingly sweet and cliché and so irrevocably normal that it makes his stomach roll. But there it is.

It's not illegal in the wizarding world to be gay but it's not entirely accepted either. And that's not for any bigoted reason or anything; it's just for the simple fact that wizards are a dying breed. Especially pure bloods.

Draco knows that if he asks Harry to stay with him forever that he would but he won't ask that.

"Will you marry the Weaselette?" he asks one day when they're sprawled across Harry's bed, curtains drawn. Their daemons are a tangle of feathers and fur at the end of it and Draco's tucked against Harry's side.

"Her name is Ginny, Draco," he chastises gently and yawns. "I suppose I will unless you don't want me to."

"Will you tell her about us?"

Harry chuckles, "I don't know. Maybe."

Draco's mouth twists. "Do you love her?"

"I dunno," Harry says, winding his fingers through Draco's hair.

"Is there anything you know?"

"Guess not," he laughs.

Draco sits up and studies him. "Do you love me?" he asks quietly and immediately regrets it.

Harry smiles, "Do you even have to ask?"

After Hogwarts they stay in touch.

Draco marries a pretty girl named Astoria with a butterfly daemon. She's funny and clever and kind and doesn't ask to much about the amount of time he spends with Harry (and Draco in turn doesn't ask about the muggle shop girl Astoria spends most of her days with) They get on well and Draco would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit in love with her, just not like that.

Draco becomes one of the head healers at St Mungo's and Harry (unsurprisingly) becomes head auror. Unfortunately he remains as accident prone as ever and spends a lot of his time out of action (or in a hospital bed which is fine by Draco.)

Scorpius is born a few days after Harry has his second.

They celebrate together a few days later.

"Do you think they'll be friends?" Harry asks as they compare photos and anecdotes.

"Only if your kid doesn't mind being bested at everything," Draco says with a grin.

Harry laughs and kisses him, "Well, I didn't seem to mind it that much."

Things all go to hell when Ginny finds out.

It's not that she didn't know before, it's more that she couldn't ignore it.

Harry, sleep deprived and vexed, screams at him for not being careful enough, for not thinking ahead and Draco snarls back because how is this his fault?

They don't talk for years.

Adrasteia pines but after a while she starts disappearing at night again. Draco falls asleep to her conversations with Neala for the first time in years.

Eleven years later they stand opposite each other on the platform of the Hogwarts express.

Harry's kid is pale and nervous and his daemon is an emerald snake at his wrist. His older boy, James is followed by a messy-haired black dog and his red headed daughter has a bluebird on her shoulder. They make a pretty family, Draco thinks as he watches them hug goodbye.

Ginny catches his eye and her hawk daemon spreads his wings threateningly so Draco stops looking, concentrates on saying goodbye to Scorpius, his daemon a little arctic fox at his feet. Astoria is crying delicately and Draco hugs his son tightly. Their daughter is at home with her grandmother and Draco chastises himself for still angsting after Potter.

It's been years.

Over a decade.

He has all he could ever want.

Scorpius bounces on to the train and waves enthusiastically, shaking with excitement. "Bye dad! Bye mum! See you at Christmas!"

The train pulls away and Draco has his arm around Astoria, waving and convincing himself that those aren't tears burning the backs of his eyes.

When they turn to leave however he finds himself facing Potter. "I'll catch up with you," he says to Astoria who nods and ducks away into the crowd.

"Can we talk?" Potter says slightly awkwardly, head bowed. "Later on I mean."

Draco does his best to sneer, "Won't the Weaselette be upset?"

"Probably."

"And you don't care?"

"I dunno," Harry says, smiling weakly. "Please, Draco."

"I'll think about it," he says stiffly.

"We will meet him, won't we?" Adrasteia whispers.

"Of course," Draco smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Draco a daughter 'cos I can. And Healer!Draco is my guilty pleasure~~

**Author's Note:**

> Neala is a Gaelic name meaning champion and I chose a hare for her because of the above symbolism and because Harry's never struck me as an openly heroic person. He sees himself as more or less equal to those around him.
> 
> Kirek is also a Gaelic name and it means "the strong one, the brave one." she's a husky which symbolises companionship, loyalty, determination and team work. They're also adorable.
> 
> Adrasteia is a Greek name "does not flee" or "inescapable" it's also fittingly an epithet of the Greek goddess Nemesis. She later settles as a phoenix.
> 
> Adrial means "follower of a God", it's Hebrew and he's a raven.
> 
> Kali means 'destroyer' and Silvain means 'off the forest' (Idek guys.)


End file.
